


Recompense

by showmaster64x



Series: What happens on Bahryn... [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Family Feels, Feels, M/M, Mpreg, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-10 03:01:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12902529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/showmaster64x/pseuds/showmaster64x
Summary: Kallus discovers that he will atone for the Lasan massacre in the most bizarre of ways. Kalluzeb mpreg.





	Recompense

A/N: Yes, I realize it is a bit of a crack premise but this idea just gave me the feels so bad that I had to get it out of my head.

 

 

Lucid dreaming was an odd thing.

 

Somewhere deep within, former agent, Kallus, knew he was asleep. He knew what he was seeing was not real, but that did not stop it from feeling real. That did not stop it from tasting real or smelling real. Even as tortuous as the nightmare was, the thought of somehow waking himself up did not cross his mind. It had never seemed like a possibility.

 

Guilt had been weighing heavily on his mind lately. Guilt for Lasan. Guilt for the guilt for Lasan. But he was not sorry. If he could go back in time to the Lasan genocide he would do it again and again. When the choice was between his own men and a planet of hostiles, the choice was clear. He'd told Garazeb as much and the Lasat had simply shrugged and advised Kallus to direct his hate to those who'd given the order instead. Sound advice, as it had finally made a rebel of him, a true rebel dedicated to the cause and not simply going through the motions for lack of a better purpose.

 

But he did not dream of Lasan this night as he did most other nights. He dreamt of Onderon.

 

The blast was ringing in his ears still as he came to. Light shone through the canopy of trees above him. The heat of the jungle planet was heavy and punishing. Smoke from the explosion still hung in humid air.

 

The dream assisted him in recalling his helplessness after discovering that he could not move. Lying on his side, he was offered only a partial view of embattled clearing that he and his unit had stormed. His hands clenched uselessly and he gasped for breath.

 

 _He walked through smoke and fire_. Saw Gerrera's Lasat mercenary appeared, always the demon in his nightmare. He laughed maniacally as he went about his purge, even though Kallus knew he had done no such thing at the time.

 

“Please, no!” someone screamed nearby, “No!” There was the sound of a single shot. The footsteps drew closer.”

 

“Spare me!” said another man, and Kallus recognized the voice of the unit's medic. Another shot.

 

“Go to hell, Lasat!” were the last words of Sergeant Creed. The Lasat mercenary finally entered Kallus' line of sight, and Kallus stared up into those pitiless, yellow eyes, flat face and greasy, lank hair that hung in snarls to his shoulders. The creature cocked his head to the side after observing the injured officer for several minutes.

 

_Shoot me. Shoot me and be done with it._

 

Instead the Lasat shouldered his blaster and crouched down beside Kallus. Slowly, he reached out a clawed hand and smoothed the dust from Kallus' hair, and Kallus could feel those dirty nails raking his scalp just as he had in real life. He whimpered, the only sound he was capable of.

 

“Shhhh,” the Lasat hushed as he petted Kallus's thick facial hair with the back of his hand. The injured man took note of the blue beads woven into the Lasat's braid. Prayer beads. The mark of a Lasat in service to the Goddess Ashla. Kallus would discover this later, when he would spend endless hours attempting to unravel the identity of this mercenary.

 

“The Goddess smiles upon you, _Keeran._ ” the creature told him before standing up and disappearing back into the smoke.

 

“Stop!” Kallus called, suddenly gaining control of his dream. His immobilization lifted and he let his fantasies be fulfilled as he charged after the mercenary in a blind rage, intent on avenging his men like he never could have in reality.

 

He chased the Lasat to a ravine and the creature stopped at the drop off. Kallus did not hesitate to put three blaster bolts into the mercenary's back and watch him collapse. Edging closer to be assured of the scum's death, Kallus soon realized he was pointing his shaking blaster at the singed corpse of Garazeb Orellios.

 

The Imperial officer dropped the weapon onto the dirt as the horror sank in and he fell to his knees aside the body. His surroundings shifted while he knelt, forming into the chaos of Lasan's royal city under siege. More Lasat bodies littered the ground, their flesh melted off by T-7 riffles. Screams of the dying pierced Lasan's dry, dusty air as Kallus stared around at the carnage he had helped to orchestrate.

 

The guardsman loomed over Kallus, holding the bowriffle that was to eventually become Kallus's own. The Imperial looked up at the proudly armored form of the Lasat, and his eyes lingered on the blue prayer beads that the guardsman wore pieced into his ears, the same type of beads worn by the mercenary.

 

Was the Lasats' Goddess trying to tell him something?

 

“How do I fix this?” Kallus asked, not even sure what he wanted fixed.

 

“You are fixing it right now,” the guardsman answered easily.

 

And he slammed the charged end of his bowriffle just below Kallus' ribs. The gasp of pain emitted from the agent's lips carried over into the waking realm and Kallus woke to the same agony, curled upon sheets that were drenched in sweat.

 

These were a rebel's quarters, a rebel's belongings. On the shelf aside the meager bed, the yellow meteorite shone through the darkness of Yavin's pre-dawn.

 

The droid often utilized by the Ghost's crew let out a questioning, mechanical grunt.

 

“How did you get in here?” Kallus growled through gritted teeth.

 

 _Wouldn't you like to know,_ the machine replied. _You'll have to put up with me, Captain Kallus. You're the only human on this planet whose presence I can tolerate._ It wheeled itself closer to Kallus' bed. _You look_ _like shit_ , it continued.

 

“Thank you, droid,” Kallus spat. He endured the waves of pain until they subsided. He'd gone to sleep with this intermittent pain and was not happy to discover that it had not been cured by rest. If anything, it had only gotten stronger.

 

 _You should go see one of those mechanics that specialize in human parts_.

 

“It is nothing a strong cup of caf won't fix,” the ex-Imperial insisted as he rose weakly from the bed. He felt ill and shaken from his nightmare and his hands were trembling as he reached for his grubby, Alliance uniform.

 

“So who ordered you to look after me?” he asked the droid after a while.

 

 _I am insulted that you think I take orders from anyone._ Kallus hummed his disbelief at the response.

 

“Was it Syndulla? I am in no need of her coddling.”

 

_Captain Orrelios may have suggested that I look in on you during his absence from the Yavin base._

 

“Zeb?” Kallus said, a little surprised, “Why would he do that?”

 

_Seems to think you might be malfunctioning or something. Seems to think you might need a friend._

 

“You call yourself a friend to me, droid?” the ex-imperial snorted, “I thought you had no friends.”

 

_Neither you nor I have friends, Captain. We are above such sentimental things. It's why we get along so well. However, we have acquaintances that we find... useful enough to keep around, and sometimes we have no choice but to do something that pleases them._

 

“Well said,” Kallus chuckled.

 

Yavin 4's climate was hot and muggy, and even within the air conditioned rooms of the restored temple, the humidity still found ways to permeate. Kallus contemplated swatting away a rather large insect from the gruel on his plate that the rebels liked to call breakfast. What did it matter? He had no appetite even in between his bouts of agony. Might as well let the bug have it.

 

 _Is the human fuel of inferior grade?_ Chopper wondered. Kallus' eyes shifted to the little droid, wondering how long the piece of scrap was going to follow him around.

 

“Something like that,” he answered.

 

_Might I have it? I see K2-SO with his human master at the next table and I would like to drop something on him as we leave. I hear he rusts easily._

 

Kallus glared at the droid, but after a moment he pushed the tray to the side and watched as Chopper's appendages grasped it gleefully.

 

_Much obliged, Captain._

 

The day did not get any easier. Kallus was not overly fond of his new duties here at the Yavin base. The rebels had given him the rank of a navy captain, however they very rarely permitted him any time in the field. He'd trained extensively as an ISB agent and he felt that his combat and leadership skills were not being put to proper use here within the Alliance. He'd been too highly ranked in the Imperial forces. He knew things, names, faces that few others would, he knew intimately how the Imperial apparatus functioned and as such, Kallus had soon found himself ensconced within the Alliance's intelligence division.

 

And it was boring.

 

“Ah Kallus, there you are,” General Draven barely turned to greet him from where he was sat at his desk. Kallus frowned and checked his chrono. He was early for his shift, but these things never mattered to Draven.

 

“General.”

 

“Here is the raw data for Saw Gerrera's Jedha bunker. Have your men compile a report and have it on my desk before noon. I want a 3D map, with exits and points of interest. Also, it seems he has some sort of tentacle monster,” Draven screwed up his face as he focused on an image his screen was displaying. “Ugh. Find out where it came from, or... well... what it eats.” He transferred the files to a datachip and handed it to Kallus.

 

Of course, it would be too much to hope that the rebellion would simply obliterate the hideout and be done with it. Perhaps the Empire would do it instead. Madmen like Saw Gerrera had no place in an orderly galaxy, Kallus thought savagely.

 

“Oh and Kallus,” Draven caught him before he could retreat out the door. Kallus paused. “There will be a meeting attended by all of the Alliance's high command at 1300. You will accompany me to the Greater Massassi temple in order to present the findings.”

 

“Certainly General,” the captain answered, careful to keep his expression neutral. Inside however, he was feeling his frustration well. He could see his day getting longer and longer while he was sure that he must be getting sicker. Would he even make it to 1300? He had to try. He would not appear weak or lazy in front of these people that had risked so much by taking him in.

 

After delegating a few tasks that would ease his workload, Kallus found a secluded terminal and created a veritable barricade, shunning all human contact for hours. By the time Draven came to collect him, Kallus was barely holding it together. He hastily wiped at the sweat that had gathered on his brow.

 

“Are you alright, Captain Kallus?” Draven asked, eyeing him suspiciously while they walked to the transport that would take them to the main temple.

 

“Never better, sir.” Kallus lied through his teeth.

 

The meeting was to be held in a large chamber deep beneath the temple. Kallus had attended briefings in the room before, but only at the advent of a few large space battles. Even though it had been nearly a standard year since Kallus had first defected, he had yet to meet all of the Alliance's high command members. He seriously doubted all of them would be in attendance, and of course, those that sat at the vaunted table were ever changing as new rebel cells were drawn in and others were uprooted and destroyed by the Empire.

 

Mothma sat at her perch, dressed in pure white as always. She was a presence that was impossible to miss. Kallus was happy to see that the Yavin base commander, General Dodonna, had returned safely from wherever he'd been. The up and coming Mon Cal admiral, Gial Ackbar sat quietly to Mothma's other side. In hologram form there was Carlist Rieekan from the Hoth cell, and General Cracken, still remaining upon Dantooine. There were another few that Kallus did not recognize.

 

It was more intimidating than Kallus had expected, and he had been many times in the same room as Darth Vader and Governor Tarkin.

 

Kallus found that he wasn't much more than a wall decoration for the first half hour and in that time he could feel the onset of another of his cyclical pains. There was no longer any doubt in his mind that he would visit medical once this briefing had concluded, but he was beginning to wonder if he could endure for that long.

 

“Captain Kallus?”

 

His attention returned to the room full of superior officers and Kallus realized he had failed to keep his focus where it ought to have been. “The holomaps?” Draven repeated impatiently.

 

“Of course,” Kallus responded stiffly, aware that all of high command's eyes were upon him. His fingers were white from how he'd been clenching his fists and he was light-headed from holding his breath through the pain. He fumbled clumsily with his data chip and took a few steps toward the massive holoprojector in the center of the room.

 

The world began to spin and Kallus stumbled onto his hands and knees. The data chip went skidding across the floor.

 

“Captain!”

 

“Are you alright?” A hand entered his field of vision, and Kallus didn't even bother to look up at whose it was. He was in too much discomfort to attempt to stand.

 

“He appears seriously unwell, General,” it was Mon Mothma's concerned voice, “Have him escorted to the medical wing immediately.”

 

 _I'm fine, really._ Kallus attempted to say, but all that escaped his lips was a low, pained noise. He was in something of a daze until two uniformed guards were at his sides, heaving him to his feet and supporting him out of the room. They very nearly had to carry him to the medical wing, where they left him in the care of an ancient-looking 2-1B until a human doctor could be bothered to come to his aid.

 

“Tell me, droid,” Kallus groaned from the bed as the machine went about its tests, “Have I been poisoned?” It had been on his mind more and more, though he didn't know why he of all people at this base could have been targeted in such a fashion.

 

“I have not found any evidence of toxic substances in your system.”

 

“I am in agony!” Kallus cried, endlessly frustrated.

 

“I am awaiting the results of a final test, but I do believe what you are experiencing are birthing pains,” the droid explained calmly.

 

“Birthing...” Kallus panted, “... as in...”

 

“It happens when a pregnancy has progressed to full term.”

 

“Are your circuits crossed? I am male!”

 

“I am well aware of that, Captain. Fortunately, several humanoid species do not require female sexual organs for reproduction. It would be helpful if you informed me as to the-”

 

“Spare me the details,” Kallus groaned as he depressed the button at his bedside over and over to call for human assistance. As luck would have it, a young woman in a medical uniform entered the room a few seconds afterword.

 

“Thank the gods,” the man on the bed sighed, “I seem to be in need of a 2-1B. This one is malfunctioning.” The female medic took the datapad that the droid was offering and looked it over for a long while, scrolling through the information at a pace Kallus found far too leisurely.

 

“Oh my!” she exclaimed finally, and turned to the 2-1B, “B-27, would you please fetch Lieutenant Myer? I believe he has experience with this type of procedure.”

 

“Am I dying?” Kallus interrupted, because he was now quite certain of the fact. Why was it so hard to get a straight answer out of these people? The droid went to comply with the order it was given while the medic filled a syringe.

 

“Don't be silly, Captain. Humans rarely die from this sort of thing, and I assure you that you are in good hands.”

 

Inexplicably mollified, Kallus released a breath and allowed the woman to prick his arm with the needle.

 

“I sincerely hope that was for the pain,” he said.

 

“It will all be over by the time you've woken up,” she replied with an irritatingly calm smile. Kallus could already feel his vision becoming fuzzy and though part of him was angry that he'd been given no warning, another, stronger part of him was just so... tired.

 

.o.o.o.o.o.

 

It felt as if no time had passed between the time he'd shut his eyes and the time he opened them again. He was disoriented while he stared at the ceiling, trying to determine why it didn't match the one he was accustomed to waking up to.

 

He was still in the medi-center. The memories came trickling back. There was a figure at his bedside that he recognized, and it had him scrambling to regain control of his limbs.

 

“Madam Chancellor,” Kallus slurred. Was he still dreaming after all? Mon Mothma placed a hand upon his chest to still his movements and Kallus saw that his abdomen was wrapped in bacta dressings. “Forgive me for interrupting such an important briefing. I shall return to work immediately.”

 

“You will do no such thing, Captain. You've been placed on medical leave for the time being,” she answered him sternly.

 

“Yes, you've left us with quite a mess to sort out, Captain Kallus. You ought to have informed us much sooner,” spoke another voice. General Draven was also in the room, leaning up against the wall near the door. It seemed odd for the two of them to be in here with him when they surely had more important duties to attend to. Kallus was not particularly close with either of them.

 

“I don't understand, General,” Kallus said, his brow furrowing in confusion.

 

“This is not something usually tolerated within an organized military, at least not any that I have encountered or studied. Due to your... unique circumstances we cannot discharge you, but rest assured, Captain, there will be repercussions.”

 

“Sir,” Kallus tried again. Really! All he'd done was cause a minor disruption! “I'm afraid I have no idea what you are talking about.”

 

Mothma and Draven exchanged a look between them, frustration slowly giving way to confusion and then pity. It was then that the door to the room slid open and the medical droid trundled in, carrying something swathed in a blanket, and saving the two high command members from having to clarify.

 

“Congratulations, sir. The child is male and in optimal health,” the 21-B reached the bedside and extended its burden to Kallus.

 

“What?” the ex-Imperial said stupidly before the droid was forcing him to hold a small, vaguely purple infant. “What is this?”

 

“... Your offspring, sir.” the 2-1B answered slowly, as if it ought to have been obvious.

 

If this was a prank, it had been taken way too far to be in good taste. Kallus felt numb. He swallowed thickly and looked down into the nest of blankets. A tiny face with Lasat features was visible from within the folds. The child's skin was a shade of lavender. Pointed ears were pinned against the sides of the child's head and the smallest dusting of fuzz clung to its scalp.

 

At some point, Mothma and Draven had come to peer over Kallus' shoulder curiously, and he realized that this was the real reason they were here.

 

“Ah, what a handsome fellow,” Mothma said in a voice softer than Kallus had ever heard from her. She was smiling, and Kallus couldn't believe she wasn't feeling the same shock that he was. General Draven only snorted after taking note of the child's obvious lineage.

 

“I refuse to believe this sort of fraternization has been going on in our higher ranks. How can we ever expect to be taken seriously if this is the discipline displayed by Alliance officers?” he railed.

 

“Do calm yourself, General Draven,” Mothma advised, still smiling down upon the newest member of her rebellion. She turned back to Kallus, placing a gentle hand upon his shoulder. “Was Captain Orellios aware of your... condition, Captain?” Kallus did not answer, but he knew he must have gone white. How would Zeb react to this? How would the rest of the base for that matter? His and Zeb's relationship was something of a secret, and they'd never let it progress beyond discreet, intimate encounters that happened infrequently at best.

 

“Come, General. I think it best we give them some time alone,” Mothma said tactfully, perhaps realizing the chain reaction that she had set off in his mind.

 

“Captain Orellios is due to arrive back tomorrow,” Draven remarked before he stepped out of the room, “And once you have recovered sufficiently, Kallus, the three of us will have words.”

 

 _Wait! Don't leave me!_ Kallus wanted to shout as the doors cycled shut, but he had his dignity to think about. Truthfully, however, he had no idea what to do with what he was holding. Never in his wildest dreams had he envisioned himself in such a situation. When he was younger he thought he might one day give fatherhood a try, but that had gone out the airlock when he'd been placed on the fast track to becoming an ISB officer.

 

And this was hardly the same thing.

 

His panic had not yet subsided when Chopper forced his way into the ward, making rude noises at whatever workers were standing in the hall.

 

 _I let you out of my sight for a few hours, Captain, and you go and land yourself in here,_ Chopper expressed as he approached Kallus' bed.

 

“Oh, shut up, droid,” Kallus huffed, displacing the strands of unruly hair that had fallen into his face.

 

 _Well if you are thinking of tossing it into the trash compactor, then why not hand it over to me instead? I'll bet Lasat cubs are worth a fortune on the slave market right now._ Chopper extended one of his greedy pincers toward the infant, but Kallus snatched the offending limb and held it at bay. He could feel the metal bending under his grip.

 

“And what would a droid do with credits like that?” Kallus said dangerously. Objectively, he had to agree that this minuscule Lasat would indeed be of much value to a slaver. However, just the mere suggestion of being parted from him awakened an unfamiliar and inexplicable anger.

 

 _A joke, Captain. A joke._ Chopper reclaimed his pincer and wheeled back to a safer distance. _I don't think you or that purple oaf, Zeb, will be able to keep denying that you've been plugging yourselves into each other. Will you form the human marital bond to prevent the shame of it all? I've observed that seems to be solution to these types of things._

 

Kallus scowled, but he could not hold onto his anger because the droid brought up a good point. He hesitated, but then spoke the embarrassing words that were on his mind.

 

“This surely was never meant to happen. Garazeb would never chose me for...” Kallus cleared his throat awkwardly and continued. “Will he not despise me for this? Could this not be considered a terrible abomination? I mean... the things I have done... This could be taken as the ultimate insult. My endless depravity compels me to despoil the Lasat legacy in every way imaginable, I suppose.”

 

 _I think you think too much, and Zeb doesn't think nearly enough. Besides_ , the droid focused its optical receptors on the child once again, _it doesn't look like an abomination or an insult to me. Shall I update the terms in my dictionary?_

 

Kallus said nothing and gazed down at what he supposed was his son. The smallness of him was astounding, but then if he'd been any larger he might have made his presence known and ruined this whole, grand surprise.

 

One tiny, purple hand had found its way outside the blanket and Kallus pushed it gently back beneath the covers. Perhaps he was biased, but he considered the child to be incredibly... cute. Moreso than fully human infants were at this stage.

 

He gave a resigned sigh and let his head fall back against the metal frame supporting the bed.

 

“I suppose I have room in my life for another Lasat, even though they seem to cause me nothing but trouble,” Kallus breathed, “This one's hardly been alive for a day and he's likely to get me court-martialed.” However, even as he said this, his arms drew the tiny Lasat closer to him and he found himself smiling at his own wry humor.

 

_That's the spirit, Captain._

 

.o.o.o.o.o.

 

Kallus stood within the vast, stone hangar of one of the lesser Massassi temples. The Ghost appeared from the black, foresty abyss that was Yavin IV's night and made a smooth landing. The hangar was sparsely populated at this hour, with most of the late shift techs off in the mess hall enjoying their mid-shift meals. No one took note of the small bundle cradled within Kallus' arms. In fact, no one even questioned as to why Kallus was here at all and dressed in civilian clothing to boot. He was given an alarming amount of autonomy by these rebels, especially considering where he'd come from.

 

The Ghost's ramp lowered and the interior lights framed the silhouettes of Bridger and Wren. They were laughing about something as they made their way off of the ship. They paused when they noticed Kallus, but then Bridger bounded over, followed closely by Wren.

 

“Didn't expect to see you here so late! Are you in charge of our debriefing again?” Ezra asked as he skidded to a halt. “Hey, what have you got there?” The boy stepped closer to get a look at what Kallus was holding, but Kallus shifted away, turning so as to block the young Jedi's view.

 

“Never you mind, Bridger,” Kallus growled, “Where is Garazeb?” Unfortunately, Sabine had circled around to Kallus' other side and he did not notice until she was peeling back the blanket. Though he attempted to shy from her grasp, it was too late. She retracted her hand quickly enough, bringing it to her mouth in shock. It seemed that whatever she had expected it to be, she had not been expecting a tiny baby.

 

Or cub, or whatever the hell Lasat called their young.

 

“What? What is it?” Ezra said, frustrated now, and moving again to get a better look. This time Kallus only scowled. He had planned this to go much differently. “Um, Kallus?” the young Jedi continued, “Why are you holding a-”

 

“Kal! Long time no see,” it was Garazeb's voice, “Would you mind scanning these crates for me?” He was disembarking with a large steel box on a hoverlift in front of him. He became confused when he noticed the looks upon the other Specters' faces. “What'd I miss?”

 

Kallus approached him slowly, and Zeb sniffed the air when he drew nearer, recognizing what was sure to be a strange, new scent. Kallus stopped before him and found that he had no idea what he was supposed to say. Should he be happy? Should he be angry with the Lasat for not informing him about certain consequences that could arise from their couplings? Unfortunately he hadn't yet worked these things out in his own mind as it hadn't yet accepted reality.

 

For lack of any better ideas, Kallus simply held out the child and waited for Garazeb's reaction. At first the Lasat was merely puzzled. Then, he lifted the soft corner of the blanket and glanced within. A peculiar expression came over his face- a noticeable softening of his features- and he looked up to Kallus, searching... questioning. Again, the shorter man said nothing, instead giving a stiff nod, as if that was all of the explanation that was needed.

 

There was a brief moment where Kallus knew that Garazeb was experiencing the same sort of horror that the ex-imperial had felt when the droid had placed the child in his arms. Maybe horror wasn't the right word, but it was definitely trepidation. A fear of change, that feeling of being thrust into a completely unfamiliar situation.

 

It passed for Garazeb far sooner than it had for Kallus. The Lasat held out his hands, a silent request that Kallus was happy to grant. The child was passed over without a fuss and Garazeb immediately cuddled the baby close, expressive ears falling flat against his head. A noise erupted from his throat, something that could have been a growl or a purr. Whatever it was, it was joyous and possessive.

 

Kallus exhaled a breath that he didn't know he'd been holding. If Zeb was pleased then, perhaps, just perhaps, he could be as well. The Lasat freed up an arm and grabbed Kallus, pulling him into a rough embrace. Kallus laughed a raw, throaty laugh, muffled against Zeb's chest. He regretted it immediately, as it pulled at the surgical scar beneath the bacta dressing and caused him much pain.

 

“What's going on here?” this time it was Syndulla's voice. She appeared at the top of the ramp, hands on her hips and with her pet Jedi standing dutifully behind her.

 

“I think...” Ezra began hesitantly, trying to make sense of what he'd seen, “That Zeb just became a dad.” Hera and Kanan soon joined the others on the hangar floor, their curiosity getting the better of them. Zeb stood straighter, one arm still hooked around Kallus' neck while he proudly presented the child.

 

“I'm so happy for the two of you! Why didn't you say anything sooner?!” Hera exclaimed excitedly as she clapped her hands on their shoulders. Zeb beamed and Kallus bared his teeth in a forced grin.

 

“I didn't realize such a thing was even possible,” the ex-agent said through his teeth. No one seemed to hear him, as they had begun their collective ooing and ahhing. Kanan was stepping forward to offer his own congratulations. As the exchange continued, Kallus took a moment to observe Zeb. He couldn't recall ever seeing the Lasat look so... happy. It had never occurred to Kallus that Zeb might have actually wanted children at some point in his life. Surely he had thought it a lost cause after the destruction of Lasan, and he likely had buried the desire even deeper when, like Kallus, he'd found himself married to this war. What must it feel like to be nearly the last of your kind, with little hope of furthering your line, but then to be presented with this...

 

Hope. New beginning. Streak of goodness in a galaxy so full of evil....

 

“They can't have discharged your from the medical wing yet,” Garazeb observed and Kallus realized that he had sagged against the other man.

 

“I suppose I must look a mess,” Kallus chuckled, running a hand through his unwashed hair, “And no, technically they did not permit me to come here. Your droid offered to create a distraction that would allow me to slip away unnoticed.”

 

Zeb, Kanan and Ezra broke out laughing while Hera frowned disapprovingly. Sabine elbowed Kallus so hard that he had to reach up and rub his arm afterward.

 

“We'll make a Specter out of you yet, Kal,” she said. He smiled, genuine this time. It was a pleasant thought. He never imagined that he'd one day find himself welcome among these people.

 

“C'mon. Let's get you back over there,” Zeb was already leading him away from the others, “I'm sure I've got quite an earful coming my way from the brass. Don't need them to think I abducted you from your hospital bed as well.”

 

“General Draven already has it scheduled, I believe. At least you won't be enduring it alone,” Kallus said. He closed his eyes briefly, enjoying the feel of Zeb's warm, supportive hand against his back. He had missed the Lasat. Truly.

 

“I gotta say, I wasn't sure you were... uh... gonna go through with it,” Zeb told him quietly, after they'd walked a bit in silence. Kallus' step faltered.

 

“You knew?” the human sputtered.

 

“'Course I did. I smelled it on you months ago,” the Lasat replied, still apparently oblivious to the fact that Kallus, himself, hadn't known. “Kept wondering why you weren't saying anything. I didn't want to, uh, pressure you into something you might not have wanted.”

 

Kallus thought back to the last few times he and Zeb had spent time together. He remembered thinking that Zeb was acting oddly. Overly affectionate. Overly gentle. Declining all offers to spar. Presenting Kallus with gifts and favors. He'd even instructed Chopper to keep an eye on him!

 

But he'd never said a word, because even though he'd been hoping that Kallus would do the right thing, he hadn't demanded it of him.

 

 _He had really thought I'd do something so monstrous?_ Kallus thought. Then another voice in his head stepped in. _It's who you are, isn't it, Agent Kallus? What's one more Lasat life to you?_

 

Garazeb, I....” Kallus trailed off, near speechless with emotion. They were standing still in the corridor now, and Zeb was regarding him patiently. The shorter man reached up and placed his hands on either side of the Lasat's face, fingers threading into coarse, facial hair. “Had I even an inkling that I was...” Gods, he couldn't bring himself to say the word, ridiculous as it all was. He cleared his throat, “Up until yesterday I was unaware that I could even carry a Lasat child. Nevertheless,” here he made sure to meet Zeb's yellow gaze, “I would never have hesitated to take on the task. I care for you, Garazeb. I would do anything to see you happy.”

 

“Ah, Karabast!” Zeb growled, hastily blinking away the moisture in his eyes. He surged forward so that he could claim the other's lips. Kallus reciprocated.

 

Passionately.

 

Someone wolf-whistled. There was a doorway to the left of the two of them that showed a group of half-dressed pilots crowded in a bunk room. There was a deck of cards spread out in the center, and bottles littering the floor.

 

Seeing as Zeb's hands were full, Kallus took the liberty of hitting the door release and keying in the code to put the room on lockdown.

 

“Hehe, oops,” Zeb said sheepishly as he adjusted the infant so that he could have use of his right arm. “Guess this thing between us can't stay secret any longer.”

 

Kallus cleared his throat awkwardly, sure that he must be bright red. “Yes, well, perhaps it is best we do not advertise it so blatantly when high command has yet to decide our fate.” Zeb placed a hand upon Kallus' shoulder.

 

“Hey,” he said, causing the human to look up into his face, “This isn't the Empire. And they wouldn't dare separate us now that we're a family.”

 

“Family,” Kallus repeated slowly, letting the word roll off his tongue as if he was testing it. He hadn't had a family since his first unit. Kallus thought back to his dream the night before. He couldn't turn back time. He couldn't fix what had happened on Onderon, or any of the missions that came after, but he could do right by those boys by devoting himself to this new unit of his.

 

“Family,” Kallus said again, “I think I like the sound of that.”

 


End file.
